


Collection

by tarie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarie/pseuds/tarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry returns to the flat he had once shared with Draco to collect his belongings, but he becomes distracted from the task at hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collection

"You didn't change anything," Harry said pointedly, looking around the flat.

"Why would I?"

"You hated how I decorated, for one thing. For another, you said the furniture was 'beneath' your station. And for yet-"

"I've been busy." He sounded defensive. Actually, he didn't, but Harry knew him well enough to know that he felt that way, even if he was still using that bored tone and wearing that impassive neutral mask of his. When you've spent nearly two years of your life with a person, you tend to pick up on those sorts of things.

"That's a lie," said Harry, crossing to the fireplace and warming his hands. He could feel the weight of Malfoy's stare settle in that dip between his shoulder blades. Without turning around, he knew that Malfoy's eyes were narrowed and he was drumming his fingers along the side of his thigh as he attempted to burn a hole right through the centre of Harry’s back with his glare.. 

"It isn't." Surely now he was doing that thing where he ground his teeth together for no more than three seconds before curling his lip in disgust.

"I think it is."

"Look, Potter, do you want your things or not?" 

"So we're back to Potter now, are we?" Harry frowned; for some reason it bothered him that Malfoy called him that. Then again, he had taken to calling Malfoy by his surname after they'd ended things as well whenever Ron or Hermione brought him up. It was less painful to think and speak of him that way. Hypocritical of him, no doubt, but Harry wasn't always very keen on being fair, at least when it came to his feelings. Turning around, he met Malfoy's eyes and stared back at him, unwilling to be the one to look away first.

"Apparently we're back to how things were ten months ago now," Malfoy said slowly. "I don't want to be doing this any more than you, so let's get this over with. I've things to do; I am an important person with a busy social schedule, you know."

Harry wanted to laugh at Malfoy. He really did. Malfoy's self-importance had never failed to amuse him when they were together (funny, seeing as how he detested it when they were school boys). But now he didn't find it so amusing; he found it to be.... Harry didn't know what he found it to be, other than an excuse. Laughing at Malfoy would have meant that none of this hurt, that he could be the bigger person here. But he couldn’t laugh. 

"In case you've forgotten," said Harry, one corner of his mouth turning down. "You're the one who asked me to come here, so don't go getting all self-righteous or what-have-you on me. I don't want to be doing this, either." Something occurred to him suddenly and his lips set in a thin, firm line.

"What?" Malfoy said after a beat, moving to stand opposite Harry, leaning against the mantle. One brow lifted elegantly. "I am not the self-righteous sort, Potter." 

Harry snorted. "Right. Anyway, this is all your fault, you know."

"My fault? Just how is this my fault? I merely asked you if you would like to come by and collect your things. They've only been gathering dust here for months now. I ought to charge you a storage fee."

"Spare me," Harry snorted. "You could have arranged to have this shite owled or Flooed to me ages ago."

"Just as easily as you could have done so yourself, or, better yet, you could have taken it with you when you left."

The bitter edge in Malfoy's voice took Harry aback, because he hadn't been expecting it. Not at all.

True, he'd been the one to walk out on the relationship. But that didn't mean he hadn't felt utterly destroyed after having done so. Things between them had become strained and were unbearable for weeks before Harry decided that he would end things before Draco had the chance to do it first. He always had to be the one to catch the Snitch first, win the row, have the first and last scone sent over by Molly, initiate the snog, come first. He hadn't been about to let Malfoy have the satisfaction of turning him out on his ear first when things got rocky between them. 

After he'd left Malfoy, things got so incredibly rocky for Harry that he'd hit rock bottom himself, realising he'd made a big sodding mistake and that he should have tried to fix things between Malfoy and him instead of walking away. But emotions weren't his strong suit, really. At least, dealing with other people's. He was crap enough at figuring out his own, anyway.

But he'd managed to figure out after a time that he missed the pointy git. He missed him more than he thought he would. That probably had a lot to do with why he'd never come back to get his furniture or things from their flat. Most of the stuff he didn't give a toss about as it was just _furniture_ and _things_ , but there were some things, like the photo album that Hagrid have given him all those years ago, that mattered to him. Harry could just never bring it upon himself to go back there and take his belongings. Seeing Malfoy again, being in their flat again, would be too painful.

The only reason he was there now was because he'd run into Malfoy at an Apothecary shop that dealt rare potions ingredients on the far end of Diagon Alley. At first Harry had tried to ignore him, but that hadn't worked very well. He'd never been able to ignore Malfoy, not ever. How did he expect to start then? Especially when Malfoy was so close by and looked as fit as ever and was definitely wearing that spicy sort of cologne that had always driven him mad?

Having no choice but to suck it up and greet his ex-lover politely, he found there hadn’t been any way to decline Malfoy's invitation to come over to the flat they had once shared to tie up loose ends.

"I could have," said Harry after a lengthy pause, nodding once. "But I didn't."

"Why didn't you?" Malfoy asked, busying himself with turning one of the Quidditch trophies on the mantle in a different direction.

"Because I--" Harry started, then abruptly stopped. How could he get around telling the truth? He couldn't tell Malfoy the real reason why, could he? That wouldn't be good; it'd just open up old wounds - strike that. It'd just further open up wounds that had never properly healed.

"I what, Harry?" Draco prompted, pushing himself off of the mantle now and closing the distance between them.

Swallowing hard, Harry backed up a few steps. "Don't," he whispered thickly, surprised at the large lump that had developed in his throat.

"Don't?" Malfoy repeated.

"Don't," said Harry again, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just-- Forget it, all right? I shouldn't have come here." Swearing, he shoved his glasses on and headed for the door. 

"You don't really want to leave, Potter."

Both Malfoy's words and his condescending tone caused his temper to flare up. "Shut. Up. Malfoy," he snarled, turning around to glare at the other man. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"On the contrary," Malfoy said, "I do."

Harry's eyes flashed the question _How_? but he said nothing.

"If you really wanted to leave, you would have Disapparated."

_Shite_.

_Shite shite._

That was too true.

He could have just popped off and been done with it. 

But he hadn't just popped off or even taken the Floo (The pot of Floo Powder was sitting by the fifth brick to the right, like it always had been when he lived there.). 

_I wanted him to stop me._

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself, Harry?"

"No, Malfoy, you git, I don't have a damned-"

Then it hit him. Malfoy called him Harry.

Malfoy called him Harry and he bit on his lower lip (briefly, but Harry had seem him do it and that was all that mattered; he knew what it meant.) and _God_ did Harry miss him.

"You don't have a damned what?" said Malfoy, sounding exasperated. "I'm quite tired of asking you questions. Say what you mean or say nothing at all. You know where your things are; I'll go in the den while you take care of everything. You know the way out."

Staring hard at his retreating form, Harry quickly weighed his options. Either he could let Malfoy go back in the den, get his stuff together, and leave without ever having to see him again or he could stop Malfoy from going back there and-- 

_And what?_

Harry didn't know the answer to that question but it seemed like the much better option of the two.

Malfoy had barely turned down the corridor leading to the den, among other rooms, when Harry caught up with him, setting a hand firmly on his shoulder. 

"Don't go." He squeezed Malfoy's shoulder for good measure. "Please."

Under his grip, Malfoy's frame tensed. 

He was going to ignore him, shrug him off, go down to that den and shut the door in his face; as each second passed and the silence in the air grew heavier and heavier, Harry became convinced of that and knew that he couldn't let it happen.

"I mucked up," he said in a low voice. "I was a prig, I admit that now."

"You were." Malfoy still didn't turn around, but he didn't try to move away, either.

"We both were," Harry corrected, applying light pressure to Malfoy's shoulder and pressing his fingers harder against it, pushing back slightly to urge Malfoy to pivot round to face him again. 

"You were the bigger prig," said Malfoy, narrowed eyes flashing as he faced Harry again.

Mirroring Malfoy's expression and narrowing his own eyes, a retort was on the tip of Harry's tongue, but he didn't say it. Being this close in proximity again to Malfoy, alone in the flat they'd once shared rather than in that shop on Diagon Alley, was wreaking havoc on his senses as well as his sensibility. Eyes drank in the rich lines of Malfoy's clothes and how they hugged his frame perfectly. His mind felt all dizzy from the heady scent of cologne and that something he just always knew was Malfoy's skin. Malfoy's lips were parted slightly as he inhaled and exhaled and Harry felt a shiver go through him as he remembered how they felt moving against his and how his mouth tasted.

Damn it, he didn't want that to be a memory. Not anymore.

So, he did the thing he usually always had when the two of them had been together - he initiated the snog.

Pressing his lips against Malfoy's, Harry brought hands up to cup his face, brushing his fingers tentatively over Malfoy's cheeks. 

Malfoy didn't respond at all; he went very still and Harry was afraid that he'd mucked everything _again_ , only worse this time because he'd just assumed he had the right to snog Malfoy. What if he'd moved on? What if there was someone else? Harry hadn't thought to ask him if he shared the flat with someone or was at least seeing someone. 

Worried now that he was buggering things up but good, Harry dropped his hands and started to pull back.

"Where do you think you're going, Potter?" Malfoy said in a clipped, annoyed voice.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Is your selective hearing flaring up again? I asked where you thought you were going," said Malfoy slowly, "when you've started something here. Since when do you leave before things are finished? The Harry Potter I knew wouldn't dare give me a snog and not follow through." He gave Harry a challenging look just then, followed by the rather smarmy smirk that had always managed to infuriate him. "Or are you afraid of finishing what you've started, Potter? Afraid of what it might make you think? Make you feel?"

Now that was fucking low, dogging him about his feelings. Malfoy knew him better than to do something like that.

A hand clenched into a fist at his side and he stood up to his full height, glaring down at Malfoy, the small, pointy git. 

"Shut. Up," he snapped, white-hot burst of anger boiling up in his belly.

"Charming," said Malfoy with a quick, mocking nod. "But no, Potter, I don't think I will. That's precisely it, isn't it? The Great, Perfect Potter is afraid of getting in touch with his _feelings_ like some whinging school girl. That's sad, Potter, and completely laughable if you ask me. So you can face down the Dark Lord but you can't face a little thing like emotions? Tsk, tsk. You ought to be--"

Seeing red, Harry lunged at Malfoy, grabbing him by the lapels of his ridiculously expensive shirt and hauling Malfoy against him, assaulting his mouth with his own. Malfoy's mouth opened immediately under his and Harry's hands moved up to his hair, pulling at it, clutching Malfoy to him. Lips and teeth ground furiously together and against each other, tongues duelled for dominance, biting and nipping and sucking all part of the fierce dance between them. It was much different than most of the kisses they'd shared before; they had always been passionate together but this time around it was so intensified that it nearly frightened Harry. But the idea of pulling back was even more frightening. Moaning against Malfoy's mouth, Harry released fistfuls of Malfoy's hair and grabbed his arse, pulling him closer. There was a hardness against his thigh and he felt himself harden in response, pressing his mouth more firmly, almost vise-like, against Malfoy's as though it would relieve some of the mounting tension in his groin.

Malfoy tore his mouth away at last and inhaled deeply, pale cheeks flushed. Quirking a brow, he asked, "What do you call that, Harry?" Then the smug bastard rubbed himself up and down Harry's thigh.

" _Draco_ ," Harry moaned, rocking his hips roughly against Malfoy, removing his hands from Malfoy's arse and knocking him straight into the wall. 

Malfoy looked a bit stunned when he hit the wall and Harry smirked, feeling a bit more in control of the situation than he did just moments ago. "I call that getting in touch with my feelings."

"Oh?" said Malfoy, obviously trying to appear bored or unconcerned. But Harry, of course, knew better.

"Yeah," nodded Harry, advancing on him. "Seems to me that I'm a hands-on sort of bloke where that's concerned." Giving Malfoy a predatory look, Harry then pounced, taking hold of his wrists and pinning them against the wall. Malfoy howled in protest, bucking hips doing nothing but making Harry's cock positively _ache_. "Hold still," Harry hissed as he pressed Malfoy's hands against the wall and raised them above his head. His frame tightly against Malfoy's, Harry dipped his head down so he could lave his tongue along the chord on Malfoy's throat, more than satisfied as Malfoy arched off of the wall, driving into him, neck arched so far that Harry could have licked from the base of his neck up to the underside of his chin had he wanted. Want he did, so Harry did just that, teeth scraping along his chin when Malfoy stomped on his foot.

"Hell!" Harry shouted, pulling back and shaking his foot. "What'd you do that for?" 

"Fireplace. Now," he gasped, rubbing at the sore spot on his chin with one hand and pulling Harry back out to the room they'd been in earlier with the other.

All but stumbling to the other room, Harry stomped on the heel of one shoe and lifted his foot up and out and then the other before sinking down onto the nundu skin rug beside Malfoy. He'd barely set his arse on the spotted skin before Malfoy rolled on top of him, hands pulling at his shirt and teeth biting their way down his jawline.

"No you don't," Harry gasped, pushing Malfoy's hands away and trying to gain leverage on him.

"Yes I do," Malfoy retorted, shoving back.

"Lay _off_ ," said Harry through gritted teeth, his face screwed up in concentration as he placed his hands on Malfoy's shoulders and finally succeeded in rolling him over. Malfoy let out a string of curses and threats, bucking and writhing beneath him, but Harry didn't let up. Lifting himself up on his knees, he then drove himself back roughly on the tops of Malfoy's thighs, forcing him to let up a little. "Play nice, Draco, and I just might decide to play a little fair myself." 

"Insufferable liar," said Malfoy with the curl of a lip. His fingers bit into Harry's hips and Harry's head fell back with a groan.

It took him a moment to recover from the sting, but when he did he went right into action. It only took a moment to rip open Malfoy's shirt, buttons flying everywhere, and then he attached his mouth to a nipple while a hand worked on opening up the fly of his trousers. 

"Hey," said Malfoy. "That shirt cost me seventy-five Galleons, and I'll thank you to-"

His complaint cut off and turned into a yelp-whimper-moan when Harry's teeth bit down on the hardened tip; Harry couldn't help but to chuckle a little around the bit of flesh at his reaction. Switching to the other side, he bit and sucked as he finally worked open the fly, snaking his hand down into the trousers to cup Malfoy through his shorts.

_Oh_ , Malfoy definitely didn't care too terribly much about the state of his expensive shirt, judging from the hardness separated only by a thin layer of Egyptian cotton against Harry's hand.

"I'll thank you to shut up and let me fuck you, Draco," Harry murmured, giving him a bit of a squeeze (and a large smirk).

"Prig," Malfoy moaned, bucking his hips up and throwing Harry a bit off of his balance. 

Catching himself with one hand palm-flat on the rug, Harry shrugged and worked on getting out of his clothes, chuckling softly when he saw Malfoy do the same without any hesitation or griping whatsoever. When the last stitch hit the floor, Harry straddled him once more and ran a finger along the length of Malfoy's cock. 

"That I am," he said. "And that makes you just as big a prig as I am for wanting me to shag you right through that rug."

Malfoy hissed, his cock twitching as Harry moved his finger slowly along the vein on the underside. "Enough with the banter, _Potter_. Are you going to shag me or talk me 'right through the rug'?"

Curling his fingers around Malfoy's cock, he moved his fist up toward the head, manouvering so that his thumb pushed against the slit, leaning over Malfoy at the same time and tugging on the shell of his ear with his teeth. "Shag you," he said around the bit of tender flesh in his mouth. " _Fuck_ you, even."

That earned him a whimper as well as a thrust up from Malfoy, pushing his cock further in Harry's fist. That combination caused the tiny hairs on the back of his neck to stand up and for his own cock to harden in response. 

"Shite," he mumbled, rocking against Malfoy's thighs, his cock rubbing along the side of Malfoy's sac. "Can't- Have to- _Here_ ," said Harry weakly, thrusting his palm in Malfoy's face. "Lick- Draco- _please_." Malfoy complied, darting his tongue out and running it along Harry's palm, the tip moving along the lines and up all over, darting in and out between the fingers. "S'nough, thanks," whispered Harry hoarsely, moving his wet palm to his own cock, stroking it now in time with Malfoy's. A hand on each of them, he stroked and tugged and pulled and _yanked_ and their grunts and cries sounded together in some great bloody noise that was the most brilliant thing he'd ever heard. The heat and the tension was mounting and he was going to- they were going to- 

No. Not like this.

Stilling his hands on them both (and ignoring Malfoy's sigh-cry of protest), Harry shifted until he was kneeling in between Malfoy's thighs. Laying a hand on the top of each, he gently applied pressure and watched as Malfoy's legs fell further open. Anticipating Harry, Malfoy brought his knees up, planting his feet flat on the rug on either side of Harry's knees, lifting his arse a little in the air.

"Good," said Harry in a low voice, running wet fingers along Malfoy's crevice, not bothering to be gentle about pushing them in past the tight ring of muscle to stretch Malfoy. Malfoy's eyes round and he pushed his arse back against Harry's hand, a soft moan just pushing past barely-parted lips. 

Pushing his fingers up further, he moved in to brush his lips against Malfoy's, swallowing his moan. "Ready?" he asked, speaking against his mouth.

"F-for t-t-t-ten m-months, H-"

Malfoy's teeth were chattering and Harry pressed their mouths more firmly together.

"So've I, Draco," he said when he parted from him, brushing a shock of white-blond hair out of Malfoy's eyes. 

He waited the space of two heartbeats before withdrawing his fingers and gripping his cock, lining himself up against Malfoy's entrance. Gritting his teeth, he propelled himself forward, pushing past the pucker and into the absolutely brilliant and taut heat. 

" _Yes_. Oh God, I'm so sorry, Draco," Harry moaned as he thrust into him, grabbing onto Malfoy's hips and digging his fingers in with every snap of his hips.

"It's- all- all- r-right," Malfoy groaned in response, trying to find a rhythmn with him. It'd been a long time, nearly eleven months - or had it been a year? - since the last time they'd been intimate. But Harry quickly learnt that he'd never really forgotten how things were with Malfoy like this. 

Just like he remembered Malfoy was fond of doing, Malfoy reached up and wrapped his arms around Harry's neck, yanking him down and snogging him, fucking his mouth with his tongue while Harry pounded away at his arse. Groans and moans were traded back and forth from mouth to mouth, nearly drowned out anyway by the sound of skin slapping against skin. The fire beside them crackled and roared, only adding to the heat between them.

Being like this with Malfoy, having Malfoy around him and clenching on his cock and moaning for him and because of him was so incredibly brilliant that Harry wanted _more_. He wanted to feel more, taste more, have more.

Wrenching his mouth off of Malfoy's, he slowed his pace down just enough so he could run his hands along the sides of Malfoy's muscular legs, hooking under his knees and pulled his legs up so that his calves were resting on Harry's shoulders. Malfoy's hands fisted in the rug and Harry absolutely _drove_ his cock into Malfoy's arse with such force that it made his own teeth rattle and for Malfoy to let out a screech so loud that it hurt his ears. 

"More," Malfoy bellowed, pushing down hard on his shoulders and lifting his arse and hips off of the ground and against Harry fiercely.

Harry was not one to deny Malfoy's request, screwing his eyes shut and thrusting with abandon now, leaning forward and applying pressure on Malfoy's legs as he buggered him as though it was the last thing he'd ever get to do. 

Somewhere in all of that, he'd wrapped a hand around Malfoy's cock and begun to stroke it in time with the rocking of his hips. Malfoy started shaking beneath him and Harry knew it was going to happen before it did and so he stopped the motion of his own hips in anticipation.

Malfoy came. 

Malfoy came before he did and it was _fantastic_. His cock twitched in Harry's hand, his seed spilling all over it and his belly, Malfoy's face twisted up in agony and ecstacy and it was so fucking beautiful it made Harry's heart ache. 

Only when Malfoy stopped shaking did Harry thrust again, once, twice, three times and then he came so damned _hard_ buried inside Malfoy's arse that he saw stars just before he collapsed.

Neither of them spoke for a long while, the only sounds in the room that of their breathing.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry said, too tired to lift his head off of Malfoy's chest to look up at him.

"You let me come first." He sounded surprised and Harry couldn't blame him; he'd always been a greedy bastard in bed.

"Yeah," he mumbled, feeling his cock soften inside Malfoy. "Thought I'd be less of a prig and let you to it first this time. And Draco?"

"Yes?" 

Harry felt Malfoy's hand run idly along his spine and he grinned tiredly. "I don't want to collect my things. Seems like a waste when I'm moving right back in."

"Presumptuous prig."

"Not really."

"No, you really aren't."


End file.
